


Moving Up, Slowly

by sequence_fairy



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: F/M, UST
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-05
Updated: 2017-12-05
Packaged: 2019-02-10 21:09:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12920304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sequence_fairy/pseuds/sequence_fairy
Summary: Chloe kind of hates him for it, but like she said: divorced, not dead, and also not blind.





	Moving Up, Slowly

**Author's Note:**

> UST. Nebulous setting, probably early season 2.

The precinct is pretty dead at this hour. Chloe and Lucifer have been holed up in the conference room for hours, pouring over files from old cases that have a tangential relation to her current one, in an effort to find the pattern she is sure she has been missing.

Lucifer is being annoyingly helpful, and irritatingly solicitous. He leans carefully over her to point out a particular photo, but he’s been nauseatingly professional otherwise. On the other hand, Chloe is finding it increasingly hard to concentrate.

It doesn’t help that he smells absolutely divine. Chloe has no idea what scent he wears, but it’s masculine and heady and he doesn’t bathe in it like other people, it’s just enough to keep her attention. She finds herself desperate to have a little more of the smell, to breathe him in a little deeper, and instead of giving into the urge, she pushes him away and stalks around to the other side of the table, to put some distance between them.

It doesn’t really work, because he was pressed up so closely that now the scent is in her hair, and everytime she moves she can smell him. Across the table, he looks affronted and annoyed; wide-eyed with the offense of her distancing herself from him. Chloe ignores him, this case is ridiculously convoluted, and she needs all her faculties about her in order to find the thread that will tie this all together.

“Detective,” Lucifer begins, and Chloe hates the way his voice makes her blood heat. She’s immune to his weirdo hypnosis thing, but his voice - there’s probably no living soul who could resist that velvet smoke. He makes her job title sound like something utterly sinful, and it’s ridiculous, because she knows he uses it as a measure of respect, but still, coming out of his mouth like that, she can’t help but wonder what it might sound like if he said her actual name.

(She remembers that he has, once, but Chloe is still not really sure if she imagined it because she was sort of bleeding out, and anyway, then he got shot and didn’t die, so maybe she was hallucinating the entire thing?)

“Detective? Really.” He sighs. “Are you even listening?”

Chloe looks up and finds herself staring directly into Lucifer’s eyes. She tries not to do this for too long, because like everything else about him, his eyes are also particularly magnetic. She sort of understands why people tell him things when he turns the full force of his considerable attention on them, it’s not easy not to want to tell him everything, but she manages. Lucifer huffs another sigh and breaks their gaze, and points decisively at a page on the table in front of them. “There, that’s it.”

Chloe looks down. His hands, now there’s something else she needs to stop looking at. Just like the rest of his … whatever. He’s off limits, they have a professional relationship, and that. is. all.

(Except, Chloe’s brain has helpfully supplied that particular voice and those particular hands on more than one occasion on a night when Dan’s got Trixie and the house is quiet.) 

She takes a deep breath and tries to reel in the wayward bits of her brain to look at what he’s pointing out. It’s no use though, the ventilation in this office sucks and Lucifer’s scent surrounds her. Chloe gives up. 

“I can’t think anymore,” she says, and drops back into the chair behind her. “We’ve been at this for hours, Lucifer. I need a break.” 

“A break,” Lucifer drawls, and there’s that grin of his, and did she imagine the way his eyes darken further? “In this office? All alone? Why, Detective, were you planning,” he pauses, and leans closer to her across the table, “to take advantage?” His grin slips into a leer and now she knows he’s teasing her.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Chloe retorts, but there’s a smile at the edge of her mouth that she can’t quite keep under wraps. “You’re incorrigible.”

“Well of course I am,” Lucifer preens. “I am, after all–”

“The devil. Yes, I know.” Chloe finishes with an eye roll and Lucifer looks briefly put out. Chloe manages to smother the laugh bubbling up in her throat, which is good because he’s coming around the table now and leaning down, very close to her. She inhales sharply as he stares at her, and gets a lungful of him. Lucifer’s mouth curves into something that’s maybe a smile, but is a touch too much the predator to truly be what it is masquerading as.

“Come now, Detective,” he purrs, and Chloe is honest to God going to give in, because he’s so close, and his eyes track the movement of her throat as she swallows and she keeps getting stuck on how full his bottom lip is, and they’re breathing each other’s air and his hands are on the armrests of the chair, caging her in, but Chloe has never felt less trapped in her life.

“Lucifer,” she breathes, and she can feel her eyes slipping closed, feel the way her body is betraying her as her spine arches and lengthens, as he leans in, as his own eyes fall to half-mast–

The door to the conference room crashes open.

They don’t spring apart, because Chloe is pretty sure that Lucifer was never once awkward in his entire existence, but he does step back, all smooth and apparently entirely unaffected.

Chloe blinks, and looks over at the interruption.

“Oh! Hi! Sorry, I didn’t mean–” Ella pauses, clearly stopping herself from saying whatever was coming next. Lucifer turns, and Chloe uses the offered distraction to compose herself and stand up.

“New lead, Detective!” Lucifer crows with that smart-ass grin of his, and follows Ella out, but not before turning back to Chloe. “Rain check, darling?” he asks, and the slow smile that blooms across his mouth makes Chloe’s knees wobble. She places one hand down flat on the big table. He winks at her, and then he’s gone.

It’s a late night at the office, they were pouring over case files, and coupled with Lucifer’s inability to understand the concept of personal space - that’s how this happened, Chloe won’t admit to anything else.

She’s divorced, not dead. She’d have to be dead not to have noticed him - he’s the actual embodiment of the classic tarot card warning; Mr Tall Dark and Handsome, himself.

Oh, she’s so fucking screwed. 


End file.
